


Moment's Silence (Common Tongue)

by silvermadi (Orientation)



Category: Trust (TV 2018)
Genre: Briga is an asshole, Canon Universe, Kinda, M/M, My notes said 'make it sexy' so I did, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Primo learns English from Briga, Primo snarks a lot, Squint and you'll find plot, it's about the competence baby!, learning languages via sex can actually be very personal, set after episode six of Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26568937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orientation/pseuds/silvermadi
Summary: Primo didn’t speak a lot of English. This had been fine, before. But since this whole thing with the golden hippie started, it had become a bit of a nuisance.Turning to Gabriele aka Briga to teach him the English language, Primo might learn just enough English to conquer the world.Or certainly Briga, at least.
Relationships: Primo Nizutto/Gabriele (Trust)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 47





	Moment's Silence (Common Tongue)

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm writing fic again and it's not even for TOG! This happened after watching the Old Guard and then falling head over heels for Primo, Luca Marinelli's character in the TV series Trust. The TOG discord got me watching it and appreciating the mustache. 
> 
> Massive thanks to my discord wife, Selena, who enabled me even tho she doesn't like the PSL. Thank you for screaming with me about this, and thank you for reading it over.
> 
> Also massive thanks to Mack, for beta'ing as well.
> 
> Further thanks go out to the Poppy, June, Viola, Clueless, Val and everyone else who screamed at and with me about Primo being harrassed by tourists. Humi, thank you for cheering me on as well, but screaming at me about doing my homework in the meantime and banning me from writing fic for the rest of the day.
> 
> At the TOG discord: I love you all so much thank you for introducing PSL into my life.
> 
> \---  
> Title credits go to mr. Hozier.
> 
> \---
> 
> Considering these guys are Italian and i am not, the sentences which they speak in English are italized in this fic, not the other way around!

Primo didn’t speak a lot of English. This had been fine, before. But since this whole thing with the golden hippie started, it had become a bit of a nuisance. 

The boy knew some Italian, this was obvious to Primo due to the fact that, especially in the first few days, the boy had been able to understand him when Primo spoke to him. Alright, he had to slow down his speech a little, and maybe use the vocabulary mostly used on children but the hippie had understood him. 

But as the days had passed and the hippie and Angelo had gotten more friendly with each other, the hippie had started to rely more on Angelo for translation even though Primo suspected the boy could understand him just fine. He didn’t think much of it at first, having to process translation and speaking in another language can be very exhausting and when there’s a translator present you might as well make use of him. It was fine.

But Primo couldn’t help but notice that, whenever he asked one question to be translated, a whole dialogue would start between these two and Primo couldn’t understand what was being said. When asked, Angelo would say that they only discussed what Primo had wanted to know. Primo had a hard time believing it, especially when the two of them would strike up more and more conversations, all in English and Angelo had started being vague about it when asked. And then there were the looks Angelo and the hippie were shooting at each other. Primo couldn’t help but recognise them immediately. After all, it was the same kind of look he and Briga would exchange in the early days before they had started whatever it was between them. It was a look of interest, apprehension and want. The two of them were going to become a problem. He was going to have to deal with Angelo sooner or later. 

It turned out Primo had to deal with him sooner rather than later. After the whole escape fiasco they lost their translator, but it wasn't like they were going to let Paul walk around loose again. Besides, translators are easily replaced.

And then Paul sr, the man himself, entered the scene to negotiate over his grandson. Primo and the two others were left behind with this weird asshole. _Is this a cowboy?_ Primo had wondered. Striking up a conversation in halting English in an attempt to subtly feel this guy out (how armed is this asshole anyway?), Primo had felt once again out of his depth, not only because of a fucking military chopper, but because he once again had trouble with communicating. His 'that's all folks', which he learned from the hippie and in which he delighted to use, simply wouldn't suffice. He was going to need to learn the language. Primo didn't look forward to it.

The thing is, Primo had been raised with a few rules. One of these was: whatever you do, make sure you do it well, it will keep you alive. Scraping by simply didn't cut it. He had to be competent in everything he did. When his father taught him how to shoot a rifle, he had entire days filled in with drills to make sure he would never miss more than once. At the end of the first week, his whole shoulder was one entire bruise, his arms ached and he couldn't quite feel his fingers anymore. Primo hated every single day of practice, but look where it got him. Not even moving targets could faze him anymore, as difficult as they can be.

But where to find an English teacher? Asking his uncle for help would only result in him being slapped and being humiliated throughout the entire process. He might have subjected himself to that process when he was younger, but he had quite lost the appetite for it when he grew up. 

Maybe Briga would teach him? Primo already happened to be near Rome, since the negotiations took place at Hadrian's Villa in Tivoli, and since he only ever seemed to stay in Rome for business as such or to see Briga, he knew where to find him. Briga had his own apartment here, in the old center Municipio I, near the Trevi Fountain, and he'd given Primo a spare key after he'd broken in several times and Briga got tired of having to change the locks every time he'd visited. It was nice, though, knowing he had a place here where he was always welcome, considering he did not have his own place in Rome. Parking near Briga's is a bitch, but after having sufficiently scared the local traffic warden to not give him tickets, he hasn't stopped parking near the restaurant since.

After telling his uncle he's going to stay in Rome for the night due to taking care of the business transactions of that afternoon, Primo took his car and drove to Rome. The trip would almost take an hour still, especially the closer he got to the center and the busier it got. Getting fed up with tourists who just kept fucking crossing in front of his car while waving an apologetic hand, Primo was positively livid when he finally parked outside of the restaurant. He didn't exactly expect two ladies walking up to him and confront him, yet again, with the English language.

_"Excuse me sir, but can you help us out?"_ One of the ladies asked. Summoning every last bit of his patience, Primo gave a curt nod. The woman gave him a wide smile and wound a lock of her hair around her finger. _"We heard from friends back home that this particular restaurant was absolutely worth a visit. However, it seems that it's quite empty. Do you know when the owner opens up, and maybe you could dine with us? We seem to be missing our male companions and we can definitely use the company."_

Primo heaved a sigh. He understood maybe half of it. They were definitely discussing the restaurant, and something about males?

"Closed," he said, and spun around to open the door next to the restaurant that led to the stairs leading up to the apartment.

_"Closed?"_ repeated the woman after him. What followed was a whirlwind of discussion between the two women and one of them reached out to grab him by the arm. As soon as he felt the hand he spun around again and broke her grip.

"Yes it's closed because I choked that motherfucker to death with my own hands for trying to steal from me. Would you like to be next or can I go up to my apartment in peace now? Leave me the fuck alone," Primo snarled in his own tongue, making sure he laid the accent on thick to make sure they would not understand his words in case they understood some form of Italian. No need to be accused of murder by two tourists. 

The two women backed away, turned around and basically fled away from him, talking busily between them and shooting him looks over their backs. Sniffing as to not have a runny nose, Primo turned around and finally managed to unlock the door. Still grumbling under his breath about the _fucking tourists ruining this country_ while stamping up the stairs, Primo absolutely missed the fact that Briga was home. He hadn't thought he would be, considering Briga's full schedule of flights. So to see him lounging on his couch, still in his uniform with a matching look of pleasant surprise on his face, it was making Primo feel things he shouldn't have felt.

"What a surprise! What are you doing here?" Briga asked him, struggling to sit back up. Primo crossed the floor towards the back of the couch, leaned over and kissed Briga long and deep. 

"Officially? I'm here for business," Primo answered, walking around the couch and sitting down where Briga had removed his legs by sitting up. "But off the record?" Primo grinned at Briga, slow and lazy and sharklike.

"You're going to teach me English."

Briga raised his eyebrows questioningly at that. "And why should I do that?"

Primo twisted his body towards Briga, leaned forward and started to undo the buttons of his shirt. "Because I'm telling you to. Besides, you use English daily in your line of work, so you are the most obvious choice to teach me.”

Swatting his hands away so that he can undo the tie himself and unbutton the top buttons on his shirt himself, Briga shot Primo a disapproving look. "I'm not doing shit until you ask me nicely, Gattino."

Moving on to remove the belt, Primo lifted his gaze and gave him another smirk, full of promise and a little challenging. "Let me convince you, then."

Primo wants to be competent always, even in sex. He can be a lot to deal with, but Briga knows by now how to handle him. So when he's lying on Briga's thigh panting, his jaw aching, his scalp prickling from where Briga had been pulling on his hair just a bit too hard, it makes Primo feel validated, like he's done a good job. 

_“That’s all, folks,”_ he whispered to himself and snickered quietly. “Finito.”

Briga was still panting, trying to get his breathing back under control, but had started to pet Primo’s head softly and calling him sweet nothings. But then he switched languages and Primo lifted his head. "What did you say?"

Briga smiled down at him softly. "I said that I missed you. _I missed you._ " Briga stretched out the syllables for Primo to hear the words. A small smile appeared on Primo's face and he copied the foreign sounding words.

_"I missed you."_ Briga beamed at him and motioned for him to get closer. Primo crawled up the length of the couch and captured Briga's mouth once more in a kiss, this one much sweeter than the other one had been. Briga hummed against his lips and broke off with a smile.

"Come shower with me." Primo nodded and climbed off the couch. Holding out a hand to help Briga get off too, the two of them stumbled towards the bathroom, disregarding clothes at random to protests of mostly Briga that he had to 'wash and iron them, they need to be spotless for my next trip tomorrow!', to which Primo paid no mind. 

After turning on the shower and waiting for the water to heat up, Primo plastered himself against Briga's back and hugged him closely from behind. Stealing a glance in the mirror over his shoulder, he could appreciate Briga's physique quite well. The man was tall, with dark hair, a dark beard to match and light blue eyes. His eyes had lines from his many smiles. He was leanly built. Defined muscles in his shoulders, arms and back. Muscles Primo liked to kiss and lick and bite into.

Primo pressed a tender kiss to Briga's shoulder blade while his hands roamed over Briga's chest and stomach. But before he could roam any lower, Briga had captured his hands and had started to chuckle.

"Your mustache is tickling me, gattino," he said, voice laced with amusement. 

Primo huffed out a breath. "As if your beard doesn't tickle me. And, _it's fashion, baby,_ " Primo snarked, adding the last bit in English. "I look good."

Briga untangled himself from Primo and dragged him into the shower. "You sure do, _sweetheart_. And don't start pouting about my beard tickling you. As if I don't know how much you like the burn of it on your thighs." Stepping under the spray and pulling Primo flush against him, Briga smirked wolfishly at him.

"Or do you need to be reminded?"

Half an hour later, when the hot water had run out but Primo’s thighs felt like they’re on fire, and they were a pretty shade of pink and Briga was admiring his handy work, they finally managed to make it to bed. 

—

His English lessons with Briga took up most of the year. Where they would usually only see each other every few weeks for maybe a day or two, Primo takes to hanging around much more, and for longer durations too. They now saw each other almost weekly, and when Briga would have a few days off Primo would stay too. During the days, his lessons would be quite official, Briga teaching him useful and official sentences which could be used in dealing with business partners. Over time, Primo became much more fluent and was already at a stage where he could strike up a conversation fully in English, even though he would sometimes still trip over the way the English constructed their sentences. He was glad with his progress, but now it came mostly down to learning expansive words to impress those English and American assholes with his vocabulary, thus making sure they would take him seriously in conversation and not underestimate him. 

But the nights were something else. 

Primo hadn’t taken into account that Briga would delight in teaching him another language, and then proceed to use it against him in full force. It shouldn't have been such a surprise, though, Primo knew what Briga was like after all, just as much as Briga knew what Primo was like. 

It came to a head one night when Briga had him on all fours, already on the brink of losing his mind. Briga had been working him open with his mouth and tongue, and had moved on to use his fingers. Spit and lube were dribbling down his balls and Primo had already lost any ability to snark to Briga to _hurry the fuck up_ , instead reduced to moaning and chanting _Briga, yes, yes, please._

Briga, having fun and in for a game this evening, pulled out his fingers and lined up his cock, but refrained from fucking Primo just yet. Instead, he folded himself over Primo's back, hands roaming over Primo's stomach and chest, softly thumbing over his nipples and making Primo keen highly in his throat.

"Are you with me still, Gattino?" Briga asked, reveling in how Primo was already this far gone. He softly bit the shell of his ear to get his attention.

Primo just moaned and tried to push his ass back, not giving a verbal answer but making his intentions very clear. "Just, just… Briga." He managed to give Briga a look which indicated that if he didn't get on it fast, Primo was going to murder him real slow later tonight.

Briga hummed in satisfaction and smirked. "I was thinking we could practice your English this evening," he said in a conversational tone.

_"What,"_ Primo huffed out. This wasn't going to end very well for him, he could feel it. Briga laughed.

"Ask me for it. Tell me what you want. But do it in English, or I stop. Am I being clear?"

"Yes, yes," Primo answered impatiently. Briga withdrew and suddenly Primo felt cold. "Get on with it already."

Briga tutted and Primo swore he could hear the bastard grin. _"As we discussed, Primo. In English, if you please."_

"Motherfucker," said Primo, heartfelt. "You bastard! You want to make me beg, _fine._ " 

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down and to get himself into the right headspace, Primo summoned up the right words to say.

_"Please, Briga. I need your hands on me. I need you to be inside me, right the fuck now!"_ Primo begged, the tips of his ears turning pink as he blushed but bravely soldiering on. _"Or I swear to God, Briga, I will kill you with my bare hands later this evening."_

Briga tutted again at him, but lined up and slowly pushed in. _"Such a brat, even in English. But all you had to do was ask, my dear."_

Primo's mouth fell open as he stretched around Briga, but he felt so incredibly good he almost forgot the game they were playing.

"You can move," he said. "Please move."

But instead, Briga held still. _"What was that?"_ he asked innocently.

Primo groaned and keeled forward, resting on his elbows rather than his hands. _"Sorry, sorry! Briga!"_ he whined, and thank god that Briga took pity on him in this moment and started to move in long and languid strokes, or Primo would've broken down right there. 

_"Remember, Gattino,"_ Briga whispered. _"English only."_

The sounds of moaning and flesh meeting flesh filled the otherwise quiet room. Primo was so lost to it he couldn't even hear the usual sounds of traffic and tourists outside. Feeling the tension built, he cast a heady look over his shoulder to look at Briga and was met with a vision that would stay on his mind for a very long time. 

Briga's lean torso was gleaming with sweat, his hair in disarray from where Primo had gone through it with his hands before. He was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, but the little grunts still kept escaping his mouth. His eyes were glued to where his cock was sliding in and out of Primo, and his hands hadn't stopped roaming over Primo's body, all over his torso and stomach and thighs, but never really touching him where Primo needed him most.

"I want to hear you," Primo said, his voice already sounding a bit wretched. Briga lifted his eyes to look at him and gave him a filthy smile, while his movements stilled and Primo may or may not have cried out.

_"Fuck, fuck! Talk, Briga! Shit I'm sorry!"_ he sobbed, trying to fuck back against Briga but being held in place by Briga's hands on his hips. 

Briga leaned back over Primo's back and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. _"Keep it English, sweetheart. You're doing so well,"_ he said, pride in his voice.

_"Why must we do this now?"_ Primo asked. His breaths were becoming faster, his heartbeat was picking up even more than it already was and his body was taut.

_"Because I wanted to see how you did under pressure,"_ Briga said, keeping his voice soothingly, still pressing kisses to Primo's back and his hands patting him reassuringly. _"I want to see how you handle being under pressure while with business men."_

_"Why? Do you think my workpartners will appreciate it if i tell them to keep fucking me harder?"_ Primo asked snarkingly, getting fed up. This was getting too much, he couldn't take much anymore. Besides, two could play this game. 

"You think about fucking other men?" Briga asked, English forgotten. His tone was getting dangerously low. He pulled back, almost entirely out and propelled forward, almost making Primo faceplant in the pillows with the force of his thrust. "Do you?!"

"No, no," Primo gasped, being fucked so hard he swore he could see stars. _"Keep going,"_ he said, switching back to English. _"Keep going, make me feel it."_

_"You arrogant brat!"_ Briga growled at him, still fucking him at a punishable pace. _"I should punish you for this. I should tan your ass so thoroughly you won't be able to sit for a week!"_

_"Next time,"_ Primo gasped. _"Not this time, next time."_ He was close to breaking, and Briga noticed. He slowed down and Primo heaved a sigh.

_"Alright, next time,"_ Briga conceded, voice back to soothing. _"But don't think I'll forget this."_

Primo gave a weak nod. Briga kissed him once more on his shoulder blade and Primo turned his head to kiss him properly. _"Talk to me,"_ he asked, once more.

Briga changed the angle a little bit and started moving again. _"You're doing so well for me,"_ he said. _"You look so good, spread out like that for me. Taking me so well. You feel amazing, my gattino."_

Briga kept up his commentary while Primo was getting closer and closer to the edge. Primo was sweating, his arms and thighs were starting to shake with exertion and he was so goddamn close.

_"Touch me,"_ he begged and Briga complied immediately, hand closing around his cock and pumping to the rhythm of his thrusts.

It didn't take long after that. Primo tensed up, moaning deep and long and spilling over Briga's hand and the sheets under him. He was pretty sure he passed out for a second, everything turning to white noise and his body oversensitive. Briga kept fucking him through it, but didn't last long after that.

When Primo got back his senses properly, Briga had pulled out already, laid him on his side and was spooning him from behind, wiping his hair out of his face and peppering kisses all over his cheeks.

"You were amazing," Briga was telling him proudly. Primo just groaned.

"Did I pass my English exam, Mr. Briga?" he asked, trying to make it sound like a joke but failing expertly.

Briga turned his head so that he could kiss him, long and sweet and lovingly. "With flying colours, Gattino. With flying colours."

\-- 

Primo sat at the far end of the table, regarding the two Americans who were here to discuss smuggling cocaine into the US with his family. His uncle sat on the right side of him at the head of the table, as the head of their organisation. 

The two Americans were joking among themselves, about these clueless guillibe Italians and how they could use the language barrier to rip them off. Primo smiled privately at his uncle, thanking Briga thoroughly in his mind. He could thank him later, properly, by riding his brains out and making Briga feel good.

His uncle smiled back at him. He understood English as well, but had agreed to let Primo take care of this business deal. Primo had begged him for an opportunity such as this one, to show his uncle that he had learned a lot and that he would be ready to take over the family business once his uncle would want to step down.

_"If we play our cards right, we can give them 15% of the profits, instead of 50,"_ one of them said. _"We can blame it on the language barrier, not our fault that they didn't understand correctly."_

_"Actually,"_ Primo started, smiling wickedly at the two men who jumped at his speaking up in perfect English, _"our prices have just gone up. We'll be taking 55% from now on. Any more insults to my family will result in another raise of 5%."_

Primo got up and nodded at his uncle. "We're done here," he said, smiling brightly at the two men who looked at him stunned. Gathering his hat and sliding on his sunglasses, he smirked his best smirk at the two Americans.

_"Have a nice day."_

Walking out of the building into the Roman sunlight, Primo finally felt like he could conquer the world.

_FINITO_

**Author's Note:**

> THAT'S ALL FOLKS!
> 
> LUCA MARINELLI WITH THE MUSTACHE LOOKS HOT AND THAT'S THAT ON THAT I SAID WHAT I SAID.
> 
> This fic was powered by the series Trust and the visual choices of showing mr. Marinelli's ass at every possible opportunity, and Luca's acting choices to give this man all the competence. I'm still a hot mess over it.
> 
> Come scream at me about this either here or over at tumblr @silvermadi.


End file.
